


The Cat

by marzipan (orphan_account)



Series: mollcroftiarty [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Multi, tobycroft????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 01:03:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17673455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/marzipan
Summary: Molly’s cat takes to Mycroft Holmes immediately. James didn’t realize this would be a problem.





	The Cat

The cat takes to Mycroft Holmes immediately.

 

Molly coos and James doesn’t think much about it when Mycroft Holmes walks through Molly’s door for the first time and Toby comes to greet them. Molly’s cat is sociable, and incredibly laid back. It meows at Mycroft, and then runs loops around his feet as he tries to walk in from the entryway. 

 

It continues to tangle through their legs as they chat and hang out in the kitchen, preparing dinner. James doesn’t think much about it. Not even when it stays to watch, with rapt fascination, and somehow manages to dupe them into letting it sit on a chair, curling into a ball on the fourth seat at the table beside Mycroft.

 

He doesn’t even think much about it when he finds Mycroft dozing in a recliner, over a week later, the cat curled up on his chest.

 

James walks over, watching the man sleep, intending to lean over to kiss him on the forehead.

 

He stops.

 

Rather, he’s  _ stopped _ .

 

The cat cracks one eye open and sticks out one leg, its little paw resting on James’s chin, stopping him from proceeding any closer.

 

James blinks.

 

The cat blinks back.

 

He stands, straightening himself, and gives it a curious look. 

 

The cat watches James leave, instead taking a seat by the window with his laptop to work on his edits.

 

.

 

The second time it happens James starts to get this little niggling idea that something is off.

 

James had gotten up at the crack of dawn, restless, and thrown himself into routine. He sneaks back into the bedroom an hour later, where Molly’s limbs are still starfished and Mycroft snoozes peacefully beside her, except now the cat has joined the two and is curled up between the back of Molly’s neck and Mycroft’s shoulder. 

 

James quietly, gently, takes a seat on the edge of his side of the bed and takes an unflattering photo of their sleep-mussed heads. Then he leans down for a kiss, but before he can wake sleeping beauty, Toby boops him on the nose.

 

James pulls back. Toby looks at him, and then sticks out its paw again. James shakes it. Toby pulls back.

 

James leans in again, and is stopped by Toby pressing his paw to James’s mouth. It’s gotten up now, and is, in fact, pushing James away. Very weird.

 

James pulls away, giving Toby a funny look. 

 

He stares at the cat until it yawns mightily and curls back up for sleep. Then James quietly, gently, leaves the room again and figures he might as well surprise them with breakfast.

 

.

 

He nearly forgets about the silly little incident until a few days later, when Toby is canoodling with Mycroft, perched behind him on the sofa and occasionally nuzzling him with its cheek.

 

James takes a seat beside him, but as he tries to lean into Mycroft’s side, as per usual, Toby swats him. Deliberately.

 

James turns to stare, offended, and Toby glares back, tail swishing back and forth like a predator. 

 

“You have got to be kidding me,” James says.

 

“What?” Mycroft asks.

 

He turns to Molly for backup, but she’s busy on her phone.

 

“Are you seeing this?” James asks. 

 

Mycroft looks up from his paper again, and looks around uncomprehendingly.

 

“The cat!” James is trying to refrain from hysterics.

 

Mycroft pets Toby half-heartedly, not understanding.

 

James gives up. 

 

.

 

“Molly,” James hisses, elbows on the counter, face behind his laptop. “Your cat hates me.”

 

Molly spins around, nearly spilling the contents of her mug. “What? Of course he doesn’t, Toby loves you guys.”

 

“He used to! He used to lay there and let me pet him, and sit beside my laptop judging the progress of my novel, but now, now not  _ only _ does he not give me the time of day, he won’t let me anywhere near Mycroft!” 

 

Molly squints, sipping at her chai. 

 

James counts off on his fingers.

 

“Thursday, we were here for dinner, and when I tried to take Mycroft’s coat at the door, Toby hissed at me. Hissed! On Sunday, when I made breakfast, I didn’t tell you, but earlier I’d come in and Toby had gotten on the bed, and then when I’d tried to kiss Mycroft, he swatted me on the mouth.”

 

“Mycroft?”

 

“The cat! And last week! I tried to sit down next to Mycroft, remember? On the sofa. And Toby smacked me like, like some chaperone insisting we remain arms-length apart.”

 

Molly looks unconvinced.

 

“James,” she says slowly. “Are you jealous of my cat?”

 

He looks at her, mouth ajar. 

 

“I’m not-” she sighs. “Look, when you. When you thought I was dating Mycroft, remember? And you came out and called me a, a traitor,”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“I’m just saying! Maybe because you’ve known him the longest, you feel like, like you have, some...Oh you’re just very possessive, is the thing, James.”

 

He stares, if possible, in an even more disbelieving way.

 

“You are! I don’t mean just Mycroft, you’re a bit, well you’re like that with me as well. But just because Toby likes Mycroft, doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you too. You can’t be everyone’s favorite.”

 

James narrows his eyes. There were so many things to respond to.

 

“You really think this is what this is about?” he says.

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

“When have I ever needed to be everyone’s favorite?”

 

Molly takes a seat, giving him a bored look. “Are we going to fight about this? Really?”

 

“You brought it up!”

 

“You’re the one who thinks my cat hates you! Because he, what, sat between you and Mycroft?”

 

James opens his mouth to retort, then shuts it, mentally shifting gears and reversing. He pulls his stool over next to Molly’s and then takes a seat.

 

“Do I make you feel left out?” he asks, eyes tight with genuine worry.

 

He co-opts Molly’s mug, just so he has something to fidget about with. Molly thinks he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. She pats him on the head. 

 

“No, but I think you have a tendency to overthink these things, like sometimes you look as if we’ll leave any minute. You’re a bit intense, you do know that, right?” 

 

James looks at her like she’s sprouted fangs, oozing with dripping green venom. He is equal part grossed out and morbidly curious.

 

“No I’m not,” he says.

 

She counts off on her fingers. 

 

“Okay, the first time we all three went  _ out _ on a date, instead of staying in, you budgeted the itinerary down to the minute. There were three instances, in fact, when you had budgeted it down to the second.”

 

He opens her mouth, and she cuts him off.

 

“The first week, you made a total of 42 three-way phone calls. How many times have we spoken on the phone since we started working together, James? I’m lucky if I can get you on the line once a month!”

 

He narrows his eyes, mentally doing a tally.

 

“Last week,” she continued slowly. “You cleared out a drawer for Mycroft. In my house.”

 

He winces.

 

“And then you moved things in for him,” she says. “You literally went out and bought things in his size, and style, to put in there for him.”

 

James buries his face in his hands.

 

“Oh God. He didn’t say anything!”

 

“I don’t think he particularly minds,” she says, patting him on the arm. “You’re lucky we know you well enough to expect this, but you have to understand it’s quite a bit much. And Mycroft’s a private person. Very private. We don’t even know where he lives.”

 

James is quiet.

 

Molly thinks for a moment he’s overthinking this too, then she realizes the look on his face is a different kind of guilt.

 

“James,” she says carefully. “What did you do.”

 

“Uh.”

 

“Nothing! I didn’t go in!”

 

“James!”

 

“I didn’t touch anything!”

 

“You followed him home,” Molly says, aghast. “Not with him, but trailing behind like some kind of stalker in the shadows. James Moriarty.”

 

He sits there, fist against his hand, for a long moment. Then he grabs his phone.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I’m going to apologize.”

 

“James-”

 

“No, shh. I’ve already done it.”

 

Molly leans over to look at his phone, and he tries to elbow her out of the way. He loses.

 

The phone lights up with a new text from Mycroft, and she gasps.

 

_ Would I be correct in assuming Molly is there as well? I would not have expected this out-of-the-blue remorse otherwise. Would you two like to join me in my home for dinner, perhaps this weekend?  _

 

James goes catatonic. Molly shakes him until he hiccups. 

 

_ I will be hosting my brother and his wife, and perhaps it would be a good time to introduce you. You are perfectly entitled to refuse - we could pick another time, with more privacy, should you choose.  _

 

“Yes! Say yes!”

 

“To which??”

 

“Both!”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I want them to meet Sherlock 👀


End file.
